


Concerning Hobbits

by lilyhandmaiden



Series: Movie Night [5]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Academy, F/M, Gen, Pre-Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., Pre-Canon, References to Lord of the Rings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 10:33:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3526019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilyhandmaiden/pseuds/lilyhandmaiden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As their time at the Academy comes to a close, FitzSimmons watch Lord of the Rings and discuss the qualities of hobbits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Concerning Hobbits

Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons were the youngest students ever admitted to the SHIELD Science and Technology Academy and, at nineteen, they were on the cusp of being the youngest ever to graduate from that proud institution. From the day, three months ago now, when they had found out they were officially up for early graduation to this day, when they’d finally completed their qualifying and placement exams, their lives had been a non-stop whirlwind of study and preparation.

Now it was over.

When they met in the hallway after their final oral exams and interviews, still cresting their mutual adrenaline high, Simmons proclaimed, “I feel like now this massive weight’s off my shoulders, and I could actually float away. Do I look like I’m about to lift off the floor?”

Fitz said, “It’s like there’s been this constant background music that’s finally shut off.” Something about this set them off in a fit of laughter that would make anyone passing by think they’d sat their exams fall-over drunk.

For the first time in years, FitzSimmons had nothing to do—nothing but wait for their results. They weren’t entirely sure how to handle it. Beforehand, they’d talked about going to the Boiler Room to celebrate, but as exhilaration crashed into bone-deep exhaustion they agreed, without really having to discuss it, that they didn’t want to deal with the noise and the crowds tonight. And  so they ended up sitting side by side, just the two of them, on the floor of Simmons’s dorm room, drinking cheap wine and watching _The Fellowship of the Ring_.

Somehow, they had never watched _Lord of the Rings_ together before. It took until about an hour into the movie for Simmons to turn to Fitz with an air of appraisal and, after a moment, to declare, “You know, Fitz, you resemble a hobbit.”

“ _I do not!_ ” The instantaneous vehemence of his response spoke volumes.

“Oh, Fitz.” Her eyebrows knit apologetically. “Did you used to get teased for looking like a hobbit?”

“No!”

“Aw, Fitz.” She bit her lip to keep from laughing, hoping it wasn’t too obvious that that was what she was doing.

He took a drink. “I don’t need your pity, woman. Leave me be.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I said _leave_ it, Simmons.”

The desire to laugh abruptly dried up and vanished. “Sorry,” she said.

He shrugged. “’S all right.” And he smiled at her, to let her know it really was. They enjoyed the rest of the movie. But Simmons was bothered by it, all the same.

***

The fact that they had taken their qualifying exams so early was supposed to be kept quiet, so of course everyone knew about it. Nevertheless, FitzSimmons themselves were not allowed to discuss it openly, so the next day, they were back into the swing of classes and projects as though nothing had happened. The difference was that every task now was accompanied by a sense of looming finality, of a chapter of their lives coming to a close, and the fact that they couldn’t publicly acknowledge it isolated them from their colleagues. More than ever, they were FitzSimmons, alone and apart from the others.

That night at the Boiler Room, when they found themselves alone at their table, Simmons suggested that maybe this emotion was, in a sense, helpful—a preparatory step in advance of the near future, when they’d be separated from everyone here by distance and clearance levels, not just feeling. Fitz, stabbing at a plate of chips 

Neither of them brought up the fact that they might soon be separated from each other as well. They both knew it—it would be a superfluous observation to voice out loud. In that moment, though, they were each thinking about it, and they moved a little closer together at their table, as though trying to embrace their fused FitzSimmons identity as much as possible before life broke them apart into Fitz and Simmons.

Soon they were joined by a large group, winking and asking in roundabout ways which might pass for clever to a drunk person on a Friday night whether they had finished their exams yet. Since they weren’t supposed to answer these questions and since, considering this _was_ SHIELD, somebody could be a mole from administration, Fitz feigned ignorance and Simmons stammered out a refusal to comment. After about an hour of this, Simmons’s eyes met Fitz’s across the table. Without a word, they peeled off side by side and headed back to Fitz’s room.

“You know I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings with that hobbit comment last time,” Simmons said as the opening credits to _The Two Towers_ rolled across the screen.

“Yeah, I know.”

“If it makes you feel any better, people used to call me ‘Hermione’ all the time.”

“That’s different,” Fitz muttered.

“How is that different?”

“Because it’s actually a compliment. They’re just admitting they’re intimidated by your intelligence. It’s just a way of calling you smart.”

“Well, it certainly didn’t feel like a compliment at the time,” she frowned. “And I never set out to _intimidate_ anyone.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Fitz sighed. “Let’s just watch the film, yeah?”

“All right.” Simmons sounded doubtful.

They sat and watched in silence for a full two minutes before Fitz turned to her and said, “I just don’t want to fight with you right now. Not when we’re about to graduate and all.”

“No, neither do I. It would be silly.”

“Exactly.”

***

The next day was a Saturday, and the two of them each spent the majority of the day in their separate rooms, nervously checking email. They knew the results of their qualification exams and their placements, if they passed, should be coming any time now. Then they would _know_ , and there would be no going back. How could they be expected to behave normally in the company of other people, as though they wouldn’t soon possess information so key to their respective futures?

But the reconvened in the evening, because they had a trilogy to finish.

“You do think we both passed, right?” Fitz asked as Smeagol picked up the Ring for the first time.

“I think so,” Simmons replied tentatively. “Agent Weaver smiled at me as I was going out. You?”

“I don’t know. Those outside agents they brought in were so hard to read. But Dr. Hall slapped me on the back. That’s good, isn’t it?”

“I think so.” She smiled at his worried expression. “Don’t be silly. I’m sure you passed.”

“Well, you definitely did as well. They’d be mad not to take you.”

“We’ll find out soon, regardless.” A pause. “Which placements did you preference?”

It was the question they’d been deliberately avoiding for weeks. Fitz knew Simmons had preferenced SciOps; she’d made no secret about that. She wanted to go into field work, and SciOps was the best place to make that happen. Fitz wasn’t sure what he wanted, or even if it mattered, because he doubted SciOps would take him anyway.

“Can we talk about something else?” he pleaded.

Simmons was all too happy to accommodate a change in subject; later, he would wonder if she’d planned it this way. What she said, keeping her eyes fixed on the TV in front of them, was, “You know, J.R.R. Tolkien considered himself to be like a hobbit.”

Fitz eyed her in a distinctly unamused fashion. “And your point is?”

“That being called a hobbit is not necessarily an insult. The hobbit possesses many admirable qualities. When I said you resembled a hobbit, I didn’t mean just in a physical sense.”

She glanced over to see how this was being received. Fitz’s expression was stoic, but he said, “Go on, then.”

“Well, you like snacks and napping and fireworks—well, explosions in generally, really, except I know you don’t like the noise. And you like routines—you like staying in with books and movies and me. You don’t really like stepping outside your comfort zone.”

“Still waiting for it to be a compliment.”

“I’m _getting_ to that, Fitz.” She sighed, her hands pressed to the sides of her neck. “The wonderful thing about hobbits is that, even though they’re small and even though they like things to be comfortable and familiar, when they’re forced outside of their comfort zones, they rise to the occasion. They show how loyal and brave and good they are! Frodo volunteers to take the Ring when no one else will, and the reason he’s able to get it all the way to Mordor is that he’s naturally so good-hearted that it can’t entirely corrupt him. And when it gets too difficult, Sam carries him the rest of the way. All of the hobbits are so kind and faithful and committed that they bring out the  best in everyone around them.”

Fitz waved his arms to cut her off. “You’re just describing yourself now! That’s you, not me. If anyone’s a hobbit here, _you’re_ the hobbit!”

Simmons blinked. “You see, I take that as a compliment,” she replied. And he was surprised to see that she really did—her cheeks had gone pink, and she had averted her eyes to the floor.

“Well, you’re welcome to it, then,” Fitz said. “But that’s not me.”

Simmons gave him a penetrating look. “I think you sell yourself short.” She then slightly ruined the effect by saying, “I didn’t mean ‘short,’ I meant—You’re average height, Fitz.”

“I am!” he agreed. “That’s why the whole thing’s so ridiculous!”

***

That night, Fitz had trouble sleeping. He tossed and turned, thinking about the exams and the Sandbox and SciOps. He thought about hobbits, and he thought about Simmons.

First thing in the morning, after checking his email to make sure results hadn’t gone out yet, he made a phone call to his advisor.

“About my placement preferences—I know it might be too late, but I can’t remember what I put down, and I think I might’ve ranked them wrong?”

***

The morning after that was a Monday, and the knocking at Fitz’s door was so loud that at first he thought somebody in the hall had accidentally blown up another gadget. Once he realized that this was not the case, he minimized his email inbox and opened the door to find Simmons bouncing up and down.

“Agent Fitz?” she greeted him.

He grinned. “Agent Simmons.”

She tackled him in a hug so fierce that it almost knocked him over backwards. When she broke away, though, her expression was somber. “I’m going to SciOps.”

“Of course you are,” Fitz replied. “And I’m coming with you.”

After that, her smile could have lit up the whole Academy. “Oh, Fitz, I didn’t think you’d even ranked that in your preferences! Why didn’t you tell me?” She bounced up and down on her toes. “They must’ve realized that together, we’re twice as smart.”

“Yeah. FitzSimmons.” He folded his arms and looked at the floor, thinking about how he’d never done anything brave in his life, but hobbits did tend to bring out the best in people, so maybe it would turn out all right. “Fitz wouldn’t have gotten far without Simmons.”

But her hand was on his left shoulder in an instant, and she waited for him to look up enough to make eye contact before she said, “My friend, you bow to no one.”

 


End file.
